


Do You Remember Me?

by goldenchains



Category: Arctic Monkeys, Last Shadow Puppets
Genre: Alex Blames Himself, Alex loves Miles, F/M, Femininity, January Blues, M/M, Monologue, No closure, Poor Attempt At Coping, Post-Break Up, Self-Discovery, Self-Doubt, Self-Reflection, aeroplane
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-01
Updated: 2020-02-01
Packaged: 2021-02-27 23:35:30
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,167
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22504135
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/goldenchains/pseuds/goldenchains
Summary: Alex needs closure after his breakup with Miles.
Relationships: Miles Kane/Alex Turner
Comments: 4
Kudos: 20





	Do You Remember Me?

**Author's Note:**

> Mood inspired by the 'Scotts Xmas Live x Miles Kane Exclusive Interview'. The poor baby seemed down.

Having spent months on end tugging along four-wheeled luggage and meticulously stickered instrument cases around the world, the abrupt stop to his busy lifestyle wasn’t appreciated. Post-tour, there was always some sort of mourning that hung high over Alex's head. Grieving the death of who he was in the compiled nights he spent sharing cigarettes with strangers and almost-sober midnight phonecalls to Miles always brought some form of emotional disaster. This prompted a disappearance off of the face of the Earth, where Alex forgets to ring up his mum and let her know he's in town for a week and instead spends the time in his abandoned flat, reading books and watching the film adaptations soon after. 

There was no explanation behind the so-called 'eloquent' thought process that was easy to breakdown. If lucky, Alex could set aside a cluster of words to attempt to form a sentence. Ask Miles, and he'd be lost in the ocean of Alex's reasoning.

It happened all too fast for Alex and suddenly the only place that remained his were aeroplanes. He and Miles were always somewhere doing something, coming and going but along the way, Alex forgot what happened between their trips. 

Alex got used to mumbling a tired greeting when slumping onto a red-eye flight, tucking away his current read between his legs and feeling the slight pull of his lashes every time he put on his eye mask. Long-haul flights quickly turned into a guilty pleasure for Alex, a constant reminder that he had something to look forward to. Whether it be a plan, a meal, or the chair in that one café where he first tried coffee with oat milk a few years back.

It was never an attempt to escape, more of one to relive. At one point he thought he had to break in the record, that he had to adjust to Miles' new sound, that he'd have to schedule ten minutes a day for a quick 'hello'. But nothing cured the loss of who Alex became, the beard, the hair, the rose-tinted aviator sunglasses. A new person, who finally came to terms that he loved a man and felt good about himself when he declared his love while wearing pearl jewellery.

Apart from each other, Miles is loud and makes his presence known. He catches the attention of the femmes and hommes in the room with every step he takes, leaving room only for 'what-if's' to fill the air. It makes Alex want to tear his hair out, strand by strand because alone, Miles is the epitome of being 'it'. And Alex is just another that's found his attention to be putty in his hands when he wants to be Miles's 'it'.

Together, it's quiet and soft. Much like the silk bedsheets from Miles's bedroom that always smell of the sun and the pack of reds that he leaves around wherever he goes. Alex forgets who he was and forgives himself, he wears the sheets like a gown and Miles's lips paint porcelain mistresses atop his canvas skin.

The stitches ripped at the seam when Alex realised there was more to co-existing. By the time Alex grew his hair back and locked away his guitar for the final show, Miles was suntanning in the Spanish beaches, marking the day that remembrance was forgotten.

Alex still has the voicemail, where he can feel the Ibiza summer heat and smell the suntan lotion on his skin. He couldn't bring himself to be upset at the matter; being broken up with and not even getting around to answering the call.

It was too many things. Alex changed too much, he was never true to himself when he wanted to. Fear of acceptance, more so on his behalf rather than the millions that speak of him in their daily routines. Miles was getting on, Liam Gallagher was suddenly his friend, Fred Perry called his name and possibly the one girl from the Liverpool store did too.

To keep on living the loss of his past self, Alex would break his invisible streak. Those days were planned, spending hours the night before to plan where his shoes would take him once light fills his room. His sunglasses would be left atop the dresser and he'd step out with a purposely ill-planned outfit. All in hopes that Miles would remember the early mornings on the Parisian rooftops with the smudged glitter streaks across his face and the faded lipstick on Alex's lips. That Miles remembers that the true self Alex is was only seen through his eyes.

* * *

"What would you like to drink sir?"

Trying to forget others, made Alex made him forget himself.

He looked up to the hostess, smiling down at him. Looking around his surroundings, Alex stumbled over his words, feeling helpless.

"Have you got champagne?"

* * *

Alex stretched his legs out in front of him, swirling the champagne in his glass. He always found it to be too bitter, only chosen it from missing the togetherness. Missing wasn't like forgetting. Forgetting memories that he locked away in his heart in hopes they'd never see the light of day because the key fell down the drain somewhere in Sheffield City Centre.

Through the dim purpled lighting, memories kept piling on, pushing against his throat. 

Loneliness was an oddity, one that depended on the day. If Alex was lonely on a Sunday, he'd lay on his bed with his body warm and hair tousled only to forget the scent of his temporary lover. On a Tuesday, Alex would walk through grocery aisles with a pad and pen and make a meal meant for two, just for one. No matter the day, spending it on an aeroplane meant time to sleep and be at peace.

Never did it mean it was time to think. To Alex, thinking was selfish. It made him wonder, made him dream and he only dreamt when he chose to create.

The kiss, his touch, his words, fell onto Alex's lap where the imaginable danced around him. Was Alex to be stable for once? Was he to descend into another grievance? Alex's breathing heavied, the sanctuary where he could escape the mistakes of his past self and rejoice in the victories was now the present. He finished the champagne and sunk into his seat, pulling his eyemask over his eyes.

In a few hours, Alex will hide his pearl ring and find his neck enveloped by the thighs of a woman. Where, in Hollywood, Alex doesn't go around to the half-furnished home he bought years back where a pack of reds sits on the kitchen counter. He will check into the Chateau Marmot because _she_ now leads his life, and practice his 'pas mal' French in the mirror to enamour the woman lying in bed wearing the laced gown he wished he had.

And only at night, when he looks out the window to see the aeroplanes flying lone, Alex will remember the men he lost.

**Author's Note:**

> Incomplete-ish. Might add on depending on what everyone thinks. I would love to make this an ongoing storyline! 
> 
> Thanks for reading! x


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